And The Back And Forth Continues
by PageBoy15
Summary: Addison doesn't want Sam, but she wants A Sam. Sam just wants Addison but he'll never admit it. An exploration of their relationship through the years, Sam POV, one-sided Sam/Addison


Sam's first date with Naomi ends up with her back pressed against the outside wall of her building and his hands gripping the ass that he had spent almost half a semester staring at before finally asking her out. Their kisses are a little sloppy on his part and tentative on her's and when she pulls away and invites him up for some coffee, Sam figures he's pretty much in. Because although he's not a dog, has never been a dog, and isn't a fan of one night stands or feeling like an asshole, that doesn't mean he shies away from sleeping with the girls he does actually like as quickly as possible. And right now, that girl is Naomi.

They're sitting under the florescent lighting in her kitchen, and Naomi is babbling on about books and school and tests and ovaries, and it's endearing and very sweet, but after about five minutes Sam decides it's time to test the waters to see if coffee really meant just coffee. Naomi's eyes widen as he grins, stands, and walks closer, gently pries her mug from her iron-tight grip and leans in. He can smell her perfume and hear her breath, and her skin is warm under his fingertips.

But then the front door bangs open and Naomi leaps halfway across apartment, shrilly calling out "Addison?"

When Addison appears in the doorway, Sam blinks. Because Naomi's mentioned her, obviously, she's the roommate and the best friend and the toughest critic he'll ever meet apparently, but Sam always pictured someone like Naomi, conservative but maybe more on the uptight, prissy side given the few references he's heard to her wealthy upbringing, smart if not a little bookish.

And he's not sure this girl is smart, they're at Colombia after all, but it's hard to make a fair assessment of her character right now given the fact that she's apparently completely plastered. One strap of her dress is slipping down her shoulder, her bare toes are wriggling against the carpet (heels swinging from one hand), her hair is tossed carelessly up in a ponytail, and best of all, she's grinning toothily at the two of the them as if _they're_ the ones who have been bad. Beside him, Naomi makes a clucking sound of disapproval with her tongue and Sam barely hears because this girl is really. Fucking. Gorgeous.

"Hey Naomi," Addison trills, and as her eyes slip to Sam and her eyebrows shoot up a little he's pretty he's goddamn blushing, "Whatcha been doing?"

"I though you said you were going to be locked in the library all night," Naomi says accusingly, ignoring the question.

"Well I was," Addison tosses her shoes on the ground where they land with a thud, "but then Savvy called and needed someone to go out with and I really wasn't making much progress anyway and it's only _Tuesday_ so I have the whole week to..." Her eyes flit from Sam to Naomi again and her grin grows wider, and Sam's not certain but he's pretty sure he feels slightly objectified. "But you know what? I _do_ need start all that work I have to do so I'll just, walk out of this apartment and not come back for more than a few hours so… it was nice to meet you..."

"Sam."

"Sam. Right. _Wait_." Addison twirls back around in a gust of perfume and alcohol, and his head twirls a little too. "As in _Sam, _Sam?"

"_Addison_," Naomi hisses behind him, as Sam smirks despite himself. Apparently Naomi's ass did a little staring back. And while the very male part of his body and brain are telling him that that's a _good_ thing in terms of his prospects for tonight, he pushes those thoughts aside and stands up.

"You know, I should probably be taking off, I have a pretty early class in the morning." He turns to Naomi and although she's staring up at him with soft brown eyes, and Addison is doing the polite look-away-at-something-infinitely-fascinating-in-the-next-room thin, he only smiles at her before grabbing his jacket. "I had a really good time tonight."

"Yeah?" Naomi says it like a question. "Me too."

"Good luck with all your work," he calls to Addison where she's perched on the couch, her bare legs stretching all the way down to the floor.

"Wha – oh, yeah, thanks. See you around."

Sam pauses by the door for a second once it shuts behind him and hears he quiet dueling of the two women's voices, as Addison "He's cute, go Nai," is overlapped by a furious, "That was totally your fault and… do I smell _cigarettes_?"

Sam's not so sure he's going to call Naomi again. He likes her a lot, he really does, but the thing is, he's not a dog. He doesn't want to be the guy who sleeps with someone and thinks of someone else, doesn't want to be the guy caught lusting over widely inappropriate crushes. And Addison, with her long legs and red hair and big smile, Addison might pose a problem. That might seem sexist and unfair but hey, he could be worse. He really, really could.

Two days later he runs into Addison at the library, where she's holed up at a back table, surrounded by coffee cups and paper, glasses slipping down her nose. And as they make small talk that initial _thing_, that leap in the stomach, drop of the heart, isn't there so much. He walks outside, smacks his mental representation of stupidity, and calls Naomi.

It's the right thing to do.

-o-

Sam has been dating Naomi for seven months when finals end. Addison, in a self-declared burst of genius, decides the three of them are heading up to her parents' house in the Hamptons for a week's worth of beaching and boozing. Sam's in. Naomi's in until last minute research project complications hold her on campus for an extra afternoon. She tells the other two to go ahead anyway and that she'll drive up the next day (Considering how much the women packed three sets of luggage really couldn't fit into one trunk and honestly, having Addison behind the wheel with no supervision is rarely a good idea).

Sam kisses Naomi goodbye at the car. "I'll miss you," she murmurs into his chest.

"You too," he replies, pressing his face into her hair. Behind them, Addison snorts into her magazine and flips her sunglasses down over her eyes.

"If you two keep that up all week I'm kicking your ass out of my house Bennett," she declares after Sam has pulled away from the curb.

"Naomi would come with me," Sam says with a grin, keeping his eyes on the road and away from the pair of legs stretched out next to him. "She likes me better."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"False."

"True."

"Lies."

"Not… lies."

"Wow, impressive comeback Sam," Addison teases. "If this whole doctor thing doesn't work out you should totally write a book."

"Oh, shut up."

The back and forth continues for some times until Addison declares him to be an idiot unworthy of her time and drifts off to sleep, knees curled up to her chest, head resting against the window. Sometime Sam and Naomi had taken the plunge into official couplehood and he started spending more and more time at the apartment and Addison decided that she didn't have to constantly view him as a possible threat to Naomi's happiness, they had transitioned from friends-by-association to actual friends. He would come over with pizza and drink Addison's beer and the three of them would sit around complaining about school and work and rent, and Addison would regale them with stories of her latest dating adventures and Naomi would disapprove and Sam would laugh and it was really pretty nice. The three of them fit somehow and if Sam ever had an urge to punch out the leading man of a story that turned out to be not so much adventure and more disaster, well that was just good manners.

They reach the house by early evening and in under an hour Addison, restless and bored ("Yeah, all that _napping_ must have been really stressful." "Shut up."), drags Sam out to the nearest bar, a dingy dark cliché complete with neon beer signs, a pool table, and a jukebox warbling at them from the corner.

"I've been sneaking in here since I was sixteen," Addison whispers into his ear, "so if the bartender asks, I'm twenty-eight. Just go with it."

They order a few rounds of shots and take the first one together, wincing as the alcohol hits their throat.

"Sixteen, huh?" Sam croaks, shaking his head to clear it a bit.

"Don't judge me, it's not like there was anything else to do here. So," she passes him another and they clink the glasses together before knocking it back. "Are you and Naomi like, _in love_?"

"Did she set you up to this? Get me drunk and then find out where my head's at?"

"I don't know, are you drunk yet?"

"No," Sam replies. It's not entirely true. "But yeah, yeah we're in love."

"Are you going to _marry_ her?"

"I need another drink." He signals for the bartender.

"Oh my god, you so are." Addison smiles. "Sam that's adorable."

"Don't patronize me, woman."

"Don't call me woman, chief."

"Chief?" Sam laughs into his drink as Addison downs her. "You're such a lightweight. Which is shocking considering you're like, eight feel tall."

"I skipped dinner."

Sam considers her for a second. "Okay, so what about you?"

"What about me?"

"When are you going to, you know, find someone to _marry_?"

Addison glares and leans across the table to point a finger at him. It would be a lot more intimidating and a lot less endearing if her eyes weren't a little glazed over and she was managing to keep straight her scary face for more than five seconds. "I'll find someone to marry when I'm good and ready and not a moment sooner. And when I do my marriage is going to kick your marriage's ass."

"Fair enough," he grins. "I hope it's okay if I neglect to mention that challenge to Naomi, though."

"Mmm, probably for the best. Hey!" Addison's eyes light up as a new tune starts up. "I love this song!"

She grabs his hand and pulls him onto the non-existent dance floor and before long the two of them are bouncing around and singing along, attracting questionable looks from the five other patrons. A guy in the corner decked out in an all denim suit checks out Addison's ass as she shimmies to the chorus and Sam unconsciously puts one hand on her back drawing her away, all the while death-staring the guy until he averts his eyes.

Not that he can blame him. The thing is, and Sam is fully aware of what a creepy thing this is to say, no matter how gorgeous she is every day Addison is _ten times_ that alluring when she's drunk (still fully aware). Her walls are down and her smiles are bigger and it's cute as hell. And because he's Naomi's boyfriend and her good friend and they're all such great friends, Sam knows Addison feels safe around him, like he's not going to turn into an asshole or hurt her or disappoint her, so it really doesn't matter if they're dancing a little close. Because he knows that in her mind, he's just _Sam_. He's just one of the good guys. Sam impulsively pulls her into a dip and when she comes back up laughing, her lips are inches away from his.

Naomi comes up the next morning to find both of them nursing giant hangovers while sipping beers on the couch. She rolls her eyes, and denies Sam a kiss until he brushes his teeth again, and curls up next to Addison on the couch as they turn on some chick flick they both know all the words too. Sam falls asleep in the middle of it and when they shake him away a few hours later, he pretends the smile he first noticed was Naomi's.

-o-

Addison's been dating this guy for a few months, some _Derek Shepherd_, and while Naomi likes him and Addison seems happy, Sam has his doubts. It's not just that the guy's a little arrogant (because let's face it, what doctor isn't?), and it's not just that he uses way to much product in his hair that any med school student should be willing to spend money on, it's that, well…

Derek Shepherd has two looks. Dreamy and romantic, and withdrawn and pissy, and Sam doesn't appreciate seeing either of those looks shot in Addison's direction. The four of them will be out at a bar (five, if Derek's obnoxious, broody friend decides to tag along) and they'll all be a couple of drinks in and Addison will say something or do something that will cause Sam to snort into his pint as her eyes twinkle merrily at him from across the table, and will cause Derek to tighten his face like he's fighting not to roll his eyes and reach under the table to squeeze her hand, trying to reign her in. Yeah, good luck with that buddy.

Addison's smile always falters a little after. Every damn time.

He gets it. Addison doesn't want Sam, but she wants a Sam. She wants Derek to be the Sam to her Naomi, she wants a good guy. She's tired of the chaos and wants a little stability. Sam gets that. Maybe it has something to do with the panic in his chest that's been there since he proposed a week and a half ago, maybe it's the fact that he doesn't think Addison should settle, even indirectly, for someone like him, but for some reason he decides, sitting on the couch and flipping idly through the channels, that he really doesn't like Derek Shepherd.

"Hey." Sam looks up to see Addison coming out of her bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Hey," he drags his eyes back to the TV. "I didn't realize you were here."

"Yeah," she settles down next to him and pulls a blanket over her legs. "I need to get a head start on packing. _Someone's_ kicking me out of my apartment pretty soon."

"We're not kicking you out."

"If you think I want to stay here and get in the way of all that newly-wed sex, you're crazy. The walls aren't that solid."

"Sorry," he says apologetically, turning to look at her.

"If it was anyone else but you two, I'd be pissed off. You're lucky I like you Bennett."

He grins. She grins. Cheesy Hallmark music floats out of the television where Sam had accidentally landed on ABC Family.

"Any luck finding a new place?"

"Actually," Addison blushes a little and stares down at her fingers.

"Actually what?"

"Derek asked if I wanted to move in with him." Her blush grows a little deeper.

"Oh." Sam blinks. "He did?"

"Yeah," she giggles. "It was kind of cute you know, the way he did it. We were about to go to dinner and he was like 'Hey, can you pick out a tie to go with this shirt?' and when I went to the closet half of it was already cleaned out. He said he wanted to get a head start on what would probably be my favorite part of the apartment."

Sam focuses on not gagging. "That's sweet."

Addison stares at him for a second. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail and her cheekbones look high and imposing. "You don't think I should do it."

"What? I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! I can tell by the way you're all… quiet and judgey."

"I am not."

"Are too! So what, you don't think I mature enough to handle it?"

"No, Addison…"

"You think I'm going to screw it up?"

"_No_. It's not you, it's…" Sam runs a hand across his face. "Look I never said I didn't think you should do it. This conversation is stupid."

"You think Derek's going to get tired of stupid conversation and hit me over the head with a rolling pin?"

"Of course not. Neither of you own a rolling pin."

"Sam…" she groans. "C'mon tell me what you're thinking. I can't ask Naomi, she's got a one-track bridal mind right now, and so you're like, the one sane person in my life. Whatever you're thinking I'm sure I can handle hearing it."

He sighs. "Okay it's just… don't you think maybe Derek is… like maybe sometimes a little…" Sam looks over and Addison's got this expression on her face like she's expecting the worst. He can almost see her holding her breath in her throat and for some reason at that moment, he knows he's not going to say anything. Sure, maybe Derek's not perfect but it's not like he's perfect either. And Naomi's still taking a chance on him. And they're… _really _happy. Really, getting married, happily ever after happy.

Addison deserves to believe that there's someone out that worth taking a happily ever after chance on. So. "He's a little... neat."

Addison gapes at him. "What?"

"He's neat Addison. You're a slob. You might want to work on that, your shoes alone are already guaranteed to drive him crazy."

She laughs and whacks his arm. "I hate you. And I'm doing it. So there," she declares, sticking a tongue out at him.

They watch TV in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Sam pipes up again.

"And just so it's said…"

"Yeah?"

"If he ever hurts you, I'm going to kill him."

-o-

Sam is going to _kill_ Derek Shepherd. The only thing that stopping him from throwing on his coat and starting an official manhunt across the country is the fact that Addison's heart-wrenching sobs are still currently echoing through the receiver. In the kitchen, he can hear Naomi humming to herself at she does the dishes. Upstairs, the music from Maya's stereo is floating cheerfully down the staircase. He's surrounded by fucking pleasantries and on what feels like the other side of the world, his best friend is shattering to pieces.

Sam and Naomi had been cleaning up the dishes together when the phone rang. It was one of their routines; one of their endless routines that right now was the only thing keeping their marriage from falling apart. Routines like driving to work, talking about patients, worrying about Violet's break-up, Cooper's jailbaits, and Pete's relationships. They were going through the motion and for some reason, Sam felt like the only person who noticed. Naomi was loving as ever, was beautiful and smart and charming and every night Sam fell asleep wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. He wondered if she knew.

Sam had taken a deep breath and turned to his wife, prepared to breech the subject that had been plaguing his thoughts for what felt like ages, when shrill ringing interrupted the peace of the kitchen. Sam's hand darted out.

Naomi had glanced curiously at the clock. "I wonder who's calling at this hour."

"We'll find out in a second… Hello?"

"_Sam…. He…. I… he's gone and… I didn't mean for…. And I'm so… I can't… I don't… he left and… he LEFT, I…_"

He could barely understand what she was saying but he knew that not once, in almost fifteen years of knowing her, not once had Addison sounded like that, sounded hysterical and broken and terrified. For some reason, Sam suddenly feels like crying.

"Hold on," he said into the phone before turning to Naomi. "Someone from the hospital, it's about one of my patients, I'm just going to…" He jerked his head towards to living room and she nodded before going back to the dishes.

"Okay," he said into the receiver, his voice calm. "Hey c'mon, you have to breathe okay Addison? Breathe and tell me what happened."

"_I didn't mean to_,"she sobbed into the phone. _"I didn't mean to, I don't know how it happened."_

"How what happened?"

"_Please don't hate me. Oh God, Sam please don't hate me too, please don't, I couldn't… please don't hate me!"_

"I couldn't," he whispered, and confused as hell a fucking tear slipped down his face. "Ever. _EVER_. Okay? Don't worry about that right now Addison, just breathe and tell me what's going on."

And then she did. Through broken sentences and desperate crying the neglect and the affair and Derek walking in and throwing her out into the rain (Sam's fist clenched instinctively in his pocket) all came out.

Sam is going to _kill_ Derek Shepherd. Logically, he knows that what Addison did wasn't the best and most people would probably hear that story and walk away with sympathy for him and disgust for her, but Sam's not most people and he's never liked Derek and for the past few years every time he's called and picked up on the forced happiness in Addison's voice he's liked him less and less.

But now man, he's going to fucking kill him. You don't walk away from your wife when she's as broken as Addison sounds and you _definitely_ don't lock her out in the fucking rain. Sam looks outside his window, looks at the ocean and the calm and the beach and thinks about what's happening a country away and for a split second he feels like vomiting his perfectly prepared dinner all over the living room carpet.

Eventually Addison starts to breathe. She's still crying but she doesn't sound like she's hyperventilating and she's managing to get out full sentences. Sam makes her promise to get some sleep, and after he hangs up the phone he sinks down onto the couch and puts his head in his hands.

"Hey." Sam looks up to see Naomi's silhouette standing in the doorway. "Is everything all right?"

She should know. She Addison's best friend, she has a right to know.

"Yeah," Sam says. "Long day. That's all."

Naomi accepts it, smiles at him, and goes upstairs to their bedroom. Sam follows her, fakes a headache when she starts to kiss his neck, and spends the entire night staring at the ceiling.

For the next week, he calls Addison's cell and the brownstone every day and never gets an answer. Ten days later, Naomi comes rushing into his office having heard the story from another mutual friend. She's worried and confused, and when she wonders out loud how Addison could make such a mistake Sam has to remind himself that Naomi didn't hear her voice on the phone. Three months later, after countless failed attempts to contact her, Sam finally gets through to a nurse at the New York hospital who informs him that Dr. Montgomery has resigned her post to go and join her husband at Seattle Grace. Sam has the poor woman repeat that sentence three times before he finally hangs up in disbelief, shock and anger coursing through his veins.

That night he asks Naomi for a divorce. It wasn't even a choice. He was just sick of fucking pretending.

-o-

The three of them are sitting in the lounge of the practice, sipping wine, when Addison tells them she's heading back to Seattle.

"Just for a day," she says, running her fingers over the rim of her glass. "Richard needs some help on a surgical case, I'll be back Monday."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Naomi asks. "I thought you hated Seattle."

"I do. I did. Whatever, it's only for one day. I'll go, hug people I don't like, rub my carefree life in their McFaces, and then disappear into the night."

Naomi smiles at her, and replies, "Well if you're positive that you're okay with it, it's not a problem with us."

Her use of the word 'us' triggers something in Sam's brain, which has gone oddly numb since he heard Seattle come out of Addison's lips. He's not even sure if they _are_ an 'us' yet. He's fighting for her, yeah, and he sure as hell doesn't want to see her end up with some prepubescent insubordinate receptionist whose sense of appropriateness and common sense has been rattled by the waves, but they're not an _us_, Sam's still a _him_, and sorry but Addison throwing herself back into the hailstorm city of misery and self-loathing is _definitely_ is a problem with _him_.

Naomi didn't hear her voice that night. Sam keeps on reminding himself of that as he tried to steady his voice.

"No."

Both women look up at him. Naomi is as befuddled as she always is when Sam proves he's not afraid of all confrontation, and Addison merely has one eyebrow arched like she's waiting to see where this quaint little notion is going to go.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, I don't think you should go. I don't think it's a good idea."

Naomi kicks him under the table. He ignores her.

Addison's eyebrow has shot even farther up. "I'm not really asking you permission here Sam. It's a difficult surgery, the Chief is an old friend, he asked and I'm going. End of story."

"No," Sam snaps back. "It's not. You can't seriously be the only surgeon capable of doing it."

"I'm the only surgeon capable if we want the patient to _live_."

"Oh so that's why you're going to Seattle. The patient. You're going to go straight to the hospital, straight to the patient's room, straight to the OR, and right back on the plane. You're not going to talk try and talk to Derek or Mark, you're going to be completely professional, and then you're going to just _leave_. Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"_Yes_!" Addison says exasperatedly, throwing her hands in the air. "If you're asking do I honestly expect you to trust my judgment, then _yes_ I do!"

"It's a bad, stupid, idiotic idea." He bangs his wine glass on the table, shakes off Naomi's hand on his arm, and begins to storm back into his office. Addison, not one to back down from a fight, jumps up from her seat and stalks after him, brushing past Pete, Cooper, and Violet as they trail out of the kitchen to find the source of the commotion. Fucking _perfect_.

"You mind letting me in on what exactly your problem is?" Addison calls after him.

Sam has a lot of problems. He has a relationship with an ex-wife he's not sure he's right for but definitely not ready to give up. He has a teenage daughter whose friends apparently are doing a fine job of exposing her to the joys of underage sex and unplanned pregnancy. He has a book that half the time is brilliant and half the time is bullshit. He thinks. And right now he has a redheaded OB/GYN who dances in places that could use a curtain, makes out with people he tells her to avoid, travels to cities to see her douchebag of an ex-husband and his manwhore of a best friend, and never tells him what's going on or why she's crying or why she went to Seattle in the first place or why she left or –

"_Sam!_"

"What?!" He twirls around to face her. Addison's got her arms folded over her chest and her eyes are blazing. Behind them, the Oceanside crew is doing their best to nonchalantly listen in (except for Naomi, who's seen their fights before and is currently waving his hands in a knock-it-off-moron kind of way that makes Sam want to do the exact opposite).

"So I'm going to Seattle for twenty-four hours, what is the big deal?" Addison asks, and oh god she really doesn't get it does she?

"You disappeared Addison!" Sam yells and shocked, she takes a step back.

"What are you talking about?"

He should stop. It's not the time or the place, not with his ex-wife and everyone they work with in the next room, and Addison doesn't know how long this has been building up or where he's coming from, so really it's not fair. He should stop, but he doesn't think he will.

"Do you have _any_ idea what it was like getting that call from you Addison? Do you have _any_ idea how… scared and, and… _broken_ you sounded? Or how terrified _I_ was when we didn't hear from you for the next year? And then you just show up out of nowhere and act like everything's totally fine and now you're going _back_?"

"_I am not going back!_" Addison shouts. "And… it's not an _act_. Everything's _fine_."

"Then why don't you talk about it?"

"I don't need to talk about it!"

"Well maybe I need to talk about it! Maybe I deserve to know what the hell's been going on with you!" Sam thinks he stopped making sense around the same time that every single one of his muscles tensed up. Mind body connection indeed.

Addison snorts. "You _deserve_ to know?"

"Yes." Sam snaps. "I do. I get that I don't have custody of you or whatever, but I still deserve to know what finally caused you to get the hell away from that game. Since apparently it wasn't enough that he _threw_ _you_ out in the _pouring rain_ in the_ middle _ofthe_ night_!"

And then there's silence. And Sam can't look at Addison because she's staring at him like he's a complete stranger, so instead he shoves his hands in his pockets and pretends he was in the right.

"He screwed his intern in an exam room." Their eyes meet. She's about to cry. "And left her underwear in his tux pocket."

Sam gapes as Addison shoots him one more look before backing away and escaping into her office. Pete rushes in after her. Through the blinds Sam watches as he places a hand on Addison's shoulder, turning her until she's crying softly into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around her, one hand slowly rubbing her back. Sam looks away when he drops a kiss on the op of her head.

"Sam." Naomi is standing in front of him. "What was that?"

"It's a bad idea," is all he says. Sam doesn't even know what it is anymore.

-o-

"You're going on a date with Addison."

Pete looks up from behind his desk where he's nervously fiddling with his cufflinks. It's been a month since Addison returned from Seattle. Things are okay between them. He apologized, she apologized, they shared a beer. He and Naomi have are still in the hazy, uncertainty of an undefined relationship. Pete kissed Addison in the birthing suite last week and since then they've been grinning at each other the way Maya grins at puppies. Naomi says it's cute and everyone should just let them figure it out. Sam agrees, for the most part, but he's still getting his word in.

"Yeah, tonight." Pete rubs his hands together nervously before shoving them into his pockets. "Any, um, advice?"

Sam looks at him for a second. The last piece of advice he gave Pete about Addison was 'don't even think about it'. It was really more for her benefit. This would be too.

"Just… treat her right. You don' t have to be the perfect guy Pete but treat her right."

Pete's eyes shoot behind Sam and his smile widens. Sam guesses Addison's in the waiting room, decked out in her best, all beauty and red hair and smooth skin and kindness. "I will," Pete answers and then walks out.

Sam slides down onto the floor and thinks about med school and road trips and neurosurgeons and digging yourself into a ditch so deep that the only way to go is down.

THE END


End file.
